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Wednesday, 29 August 2018

Deleted Scene from The Ways of the West

Sometimes, a scene I really love doesn't make it past editing for one reason or another.

I don't remember why this one didn't make the cut, but I really liked it, and I'm posting it below so you can enjoy it, too.

“Frank?” she questioned.
“You … you … you shot him!”

“Yes.” Johnny’s answer was so simple, so honest, but it
appalled her. The fact that Johnny only shot to save his life and hers didn’t
matter – the only thing that mattered was that her husband, the man she had
pledged to honour and obey for the rest of her life, had just killed a man
right in front of her. He was a murderer. A killer. And she was married to him.

“I had no choice Jessie. It was either him or me. He’d
threatened to kill you too; if Mr Jordan hadn’t stepped in when he did, you
would be dead right now. I had no choice Jessie. I HAD to do it. Do you
understand?”

“You killed him!” She backed away from him, pointing a
shaky finger at him accusingly. “You shot him … and you killed him!” Wrenching
herself out of his grasp she spun on her heel and ran. Her legs were wobbly,
but she could still run. She couldn’t see through her tears so she ran blindly,
wanting nothing but to get away. She couldn’t be married to a killer. She just
couldn’t be.

“Ooof.” The breath knocked out of her as she bounced off a
solid mass but big hands wrapped around her waist and stopped her, holding her
fast.

“Do you promise not to run away?” Davey asked. “I’ll let
you go, but don’t go

running off. It’s not safe. I’d have to run after you, and
I’m too tired to do that now.”

“Fine.” All the fight had gone out of her now, and when
Davey released her she sank to her knees on the ground and pressed her face
into the dirt where she sobbed pitifully.

“Get up, you’re getting covered in dust,” Davey scolded
gently as he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Look Johnny’s fine
and Frank’s dead. You should be happy. I was at your weddin’ remember, I know
how much you love the man.”

“Frank’s dead because Johnny killed him! I don’t want to
be married to a murderer!”

“If Johnny hadn’t killed him one of us would have - Mr
Jordan, probably. None of us take kindly to a man holding a gun on a woman.
Count yourself lucky. You got a good man.”

“You don’t understand, do you? I was raised in Boston.
This sort of thing just doesn’t happen there. In Boston there are laws! I don’t
want to be married to a murderer. Just let me go.” Tears were streaming down
her face and she swiped at them angrily. None of the men understood the way she
felt; killing people was obviously just part of life for them.

“This isn’t Boston. There’s no law out here, we have to
do the best we can. By God you’re a stubborn woman. You need a good tanning!”
Gripping her upper arm tightly he pulled her closer to him so he could hiss in
her ear. “Stay here. If you run away I will catch you and tan you myself.”

Jessica gasped in outrage. How dare he! Davey was just a
scout with a trail drive, what did he know about women? Drawing back her hand
she slapped him hard across the face. It connected well; her hand stung
satisfyingly. Before anyone could react she took off, dodging around the
assembled men who were too stunned to try to stop her. She couldn’t believe
she’d actually slapped Davey, she knew there would be hell to pay when he
caught up with her. Fear gave her more speed; she kept running, her feet
pounding on the dusty ground, and she left the camp far behind.

“Hey!” There was a shout behind her and the sound of
running footsteps so she ran faster. She knew who it was without even turning
around – it would be Davey and Johnny, possibly Mr Jordan as well. She knew
that whoever caught her would spank her; she knew from experience that both
Johnny and Mr Jordan would. And Davey had threatened to - she doubted even
Johnny would stop him from getting his own back on her rear end.

Slipping behind a bush she crouched down, hoping that the
men wouldn’t see her. The action brought back memories of the day she’d hid
behind the bushes when the Indians were attacking the wagon train, and she
shuddered, the echoes of the remembered gunfire ringing in her ears. Gunfire …
killing … there’d been killing on both sides; it hadn’t just been the people on
the wagon train who had fallen … She gulped as the reality of life out here
dawned on her.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she peeked
through the leaves at the approaching footsteps. Davey was nearly on her, with
Johnny and Mr Jordan not too far behind. None of them looked happy.

Her hiding place didn’t work. Damn! She cussed in her head. She’d forgotten that Davey was the
best tracker on the crew. He simply followed her footprints directly to the
shrub she was hiding in, reached in and pulled her out, grasping her tightly by
the upper arm.

“I told you not to run away!” he hissed in her ear. “It’s
dangerous out here at night, you could be killed!”

“So what do you expect me to do? Just stay in camp with
my murderer of a husband?”

“Yes.” In one
swift move he hauled her over his shoulder and landed a flurry of six rapid,
hard swats to the seat of her pants.

“Ow!” she yelled. “You put me down!”

“Not likely!” Davey replied, swatting her twice more.
“You’re going to get what’s coming to you! You slapped me then you ran away!”
He scolded, swatting her again.

“I’m sorry!” She
yelped. Davey was igniting a fire in her bottom that was getting hard to
ignore. She wriggled and kicked, but Davey held her fast.

With one last, hard swat, Davey set her on her feet. “You
better not,” he growled.

Fighting back tears, Jessica stood, trying to rub the
sting out of her bottom, waiting for Johnny and Mr Jordan to catch up with
them. Both men had slowed to a walk once they realised Davey had found her, and
were only just reaching them now. Mr Jordan’s
face wore an expression of stern amusement but Johnny just looked utterly
miserable. Instantly, she felt guilty. Davey was right – this wasn’t Boston.
How was Johnny shooting Frank any different to the men on the wagon train who
had shot at the attacking Indians? It wasn’t. Killing was wrong, but out here
sometimes it was necessary. Johnny had been trying to protect her, he was a
good man. How could she be upset with him? Johnny opened his arms to her and
without hesitating, she ran into them, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry Johnny, I’m so sorry,” she told him over and
over, pressing her face into his shirt.

Johnny didn’t say a word, he just held her protectively
against his body. Somehow, Jessica knew that he wasn’t angry with her; she knew
that he understood her shock. She’d been half expecting him to turn her over
his knee and spank her right there, but she knew now that he wasn’t going
to. She hugged him tighter, grateful.
Her backside was still stinging from Davey’s swats. Why did cowboys have to be
so strong, and spank so hard? She pouted. Life wasn’t fair.

In silence, they all walked back to camp together, and
Jessica knew that now, whatever else happened, everything would be all right.